Quarantined
by yesimadramaqueen
Summary: Buffy and Giles are quarantined, and they're making with the cozies. BuffyxGiles, friendship...possibly more. Set in an AU season six. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

"No, it wasn't furry. It was hairy. Yes, there _is_ a difference…" Giles snapped into the phone.

"Did you mention the glowiness?" Buffy asked him with a sniffle. He held up a finger and nodded briefly.

"It glowed. No…yes…no…no…yes. The eyes, or at least what looked like the eyes."

"And don't forget the scaly claw things. And the teeth," she added.

"It had claws and the teeth were rather sharp, more like fangs, only there were three sets of them. Catlike or crablike claws? Um…" he turned to her with a shrug. "Buffy got a better look at it than I did."

She held out her hand. "Let me talk to her."

He passed the phone and she held it to her ear with a sneeze. "Hey Will, what have you found so far?"

"Not much really. Were the claws big or tiny?" Willow responded curiously.

"Big, Freddy Krugerish."

"So not like crab pinchers?"

"No."

"And the teeth?"

"Tall, dark, and ugly."

"Drool?"

"More than if Xander went to a party at the playgirl mansion."

"Runny and clear or thick and icky?"

"Thick and icky."

"How many eyes?"

"Just the two glowy ones."

"Legs and arms?"

"Two of each and a big fin thing down its back."

"Uh-huh," Willow muttered thoughtfully. "I see…"

"Well? Do you know what attacked us?" she asked.

"Xander wants to talk."

A loud click echoed and Xander inquired, "What does the bite look like again?"

She glanced at the bandage on her arm and thought back to the wound. "Four tiny holes like the dots on dice. And it glows a really gross shade of green. It doesn't go with my skin tone at all."

"And the area around the green dots?"

"Itchy, achy, and puffy."

"Ah-ha!" he exclaimed.

She sat up. "You know what it was?"

"No clue! Sorry, Buff. We've been through all of the dusty books and we still haven't found anything."

"Put Willow back on," she grumbled. A second passed. "Listen Will, you need to figure out what that thing was. Check the web, reread the books, call someone! I don't care. I'm getting tired of being here. No offense, Giles."

He waved her off. "None taken."

"I know, Buffy! We're doing the best we can without you and Giles. Everyone else is out there looking for it. Maybe if we find it, we'll know more. It won't be long before you can go home," Willow said optimistically.

"Call the second you find anything."

"I will. Just one more thing."

"What is it?"

"Don't die…again. And don't take Giles with you. We need him here."

"I'll do my best."

She hung the phone up and rubbed her aching forehead. Giles put his hands in his pockets. "Still nothing, I take it."

"Nothing. Zilch. Zero."

He sat on the arm of his couch and carefully peeled back her bandage. The little dots were still glowing a putrid shade of emerald and the area around it was even more inflamed. She winced as he gently sponged away whatever was leaking from the wounds and gave it a fresh dressing.

A few nights back, they went on a patrol when a creature leapt out from the bushes and bit her arm. It ran off after Giles hit it over the head with a 2x4. Ever since, she had a more severe version of the flu, which included hacking up green goo. The best part was that it was contagious. Giles started up with the same symptoms just minutes after she did, which happened right after she was bitten. So, they were both quarantined to his place. There was nothing to do but listen to vinyl records and drink tea.

She was going crazy.

"How are you feeling? Better? Worse?" he asked, pressing his hand to her forehead.

"I'm feeling a bit better. You don't have to fuss over me. I'm a big girl."

"You're burning up. I seriously doubt your fever has gone down at all."

"I took medicine for it. It should be doing something…"

"There could be some sort of antibody in the venom from the creature that attacked you. It could very possibly be counteracting the medication you've been taking."

"Oh fun. Special juju in Mr. Nasty's bite not only makes me sick, but keeps me sick. That's just the thing to perk me up. I'm doomed to a life of the ickies."

He'd placed a thermometer underneath his tongue sometime during her rant. It bobbed with every slurred syllable. "Don't dalk like dat. I'm sure you'll get beddar."

She smirked and a beep filled the room. He checked his temperature and a frown pulled at the sides of his mouth. He held it up for her to see.

"102.7 degrees. Wow. You're almost as sick as me."

"At least you won't be doomed to a life of the…uh…'ickies,' alone."

That made her laugh. Bad idea. It turned into a violent cough and he quickly passed her a tissue to catch the gross liquid thanks to the mystery beast.

"You need to sleep," he chided softly.

"I'm not tired."

"Then I'll go put on a pot of tea."

"Don't. I think I'm starting to feel a bit sleepy."

He smiled. "Are you sure?"

"I've had enough tea to be an official member of the British population. If my options are sleep or drink more, goodnight Giles."

"Alright. I'll go see if I can find anything to help you get some rest that you haven't already taken."

He got ready to move, but her voice stopped him. "I'm not the only one that should be resting. You're sick too. If you die, who's going to keep me company?"

"Well…"

"Exactly. It'd be me and your books. I don't like books."

He chuckled and it turned into a rasp and then a sneeze. She gave him her best '_see what I mean'_ face and he relented.

"Fine. I'll rest, but only if you sleep."

"Okay. It's a deal."

"Let's get you into bed. Can you make it up the stairs?"

"Please. I'm the Slayer! What can't I—" she stood up and fell over. Luckily he was there to catch her. "…do?"

"Don't worry. I'll carry you."

He lifted her into his arms and he took a few steps. A moment later, he had slumped onto the couch in a fit of wheezes.

"We're in bad shape, Giles."

"I'm afraid so."

She moved out of his grasp and sat beside him. "I think that we should just stay put."

"That appears to be the best option at the moment."

A yawn threatened to escape, but she quickly stifled it with the back of her hand. Soon, gravity tugged on her eyelids and her body unintentionally slid until she leaned against his shoulder. She was too tired to move and he was too out of it to even notice. Her hand clutched the sleeve of his gray sweater—which was softer than it looked like it would be—and she shut her eyes. He smelled like Earl Grey and thousand year old parchment paper. It was oddly soothing, and she drifted off, buried in the arm of that sweater. She had always liked it for some reason. It was better than his suits, that's for sure.

He fell asleep just minutes after she did.

-.-.-

"They aren't answering," Xander complained while he stood outside of Giles's door with Willow. "Should we go in anyway?"

"Isn't that like breaking in?" she replied hesitantly.

"C'mon, Will! We need to talk to them. We called and they didn't answer. We're at the door and they aren't answering. What if they're both dead?"

"That's true…"

"So we're going in?"

"I guess so, but just because I'm concerned for their safety. I mean, I'm not the kind of girl that would break into Giles's. It's Giles. A demon, sure. I'd break into a demon's house any day of the week. Or vampire crypt. Or a bad person's house. But it's _Giles_. That's like breaking into Buffy's house. Or your house. I don't feel okay with that. It's not in my comfort zone."

"I know. That's why I'll be the one breaking in. You'll just be following."

"Okay. I can live with following. I'm good at that."

"Yes you are. The very best. Now stand back."

"Stand back? Why? What are you going to do?"

"Let me work, Will. I'm the one breaking in, remember?"

"Right. I'll be over here."

She stepped away. Xander faced the door with an expression similar to the one Buffy got on her face every time she said something witty to a vampire before its ass-whooping.

"Hello door," he began. "Are you ready to meet the wrath of Xander Harris and his brand-new sneakers?" he got ready for the kick.

"You aren't going to kick it down are you?" she gasped as she ran to his side.

"Yeah. How else are we going to get in there?"

She stood on her tiptoes and retrieved a key from the top of the doorframe. His gaze shifted between her and the key. "Oh. Right. There's a key. Keys open doors. Doors open because of keys. Why didn't you tell me there was a key there?"

"You told me to let you work."

He snatched it from her pointedly and opened the door. They pulled their masks over their faces and walked in.

"Buffster? G-man? Are you dying a terrible death or have you already croaked?"

Willow hit his arm. "Xander!"

"What? I was just asking! It's a perfectly legitimate question."

They wandered around the dinning room and kitchen in search of their missing Slayer/Watcher duo.

"Buffy? Giles? We found out what attacked you and why you're both sick. It's an Ailmentous Oxonous. Its bite makes the person sick so it can go in for the kill. The claws are only ice cream scoopers for people's organs after they've already chewed through the top layer."

"It's like a big, living, breathing, ugly piece of silverware…basically…" Xander offered.

"And the person that was bitten can infect others by breathing on them. That's why we're dressed like we're going skiing. We don't want to get infected. It's not because we're breaking in or anything. We wouldn't do that. There was a key…" she continued nervously.

"Smooth, Will. Real smooth."

She ignored his sarcasm. "The cure is a simple cocktail of magical ingredients. I brought it with me. You'll be out of here like I said you would, Buffy!"

Silence. They saw them on the couch from behind and had the entire conversation with the backs of their heads, but they still hadn't answered. Xander started to cross to the front of the couch.

"Earth to slaygal and bookman," he called and then stopped in his tracks.

They were both sound asleep. She was using him like a pillow and his arm was curled around her shoulders, holding her close. His expression wrinkled into repulsion. "This isn't exactly painting a pretty picture in my head right now."

Willow joined him and she grinned. "Aw. They're like two little cute kittens."

"More like a big, grown up cat and a baby cub."

"I think it's sweet."

He suppressed a shudder. "This explains how Buffy breathed on G-man. Talk about needing to repress memories. I might need therapy after this. I don't even want to know what happened to get him infected."

"You don't think…"

"Either way, they're making with the cozies and it's freaking me out."


	2. Chapter 2

"What do we do?" Willow asked hesitantly. The Slayer was still snoozing, comfortably wrapped in her Watcher blanket. She almost hated to disturb them.

"We wake them up," he responded simply. "So go ahead, Will. Get with the wakey-wakey."

"Me? Why do I have to?"

"Because you're a witch and I'm a poor, defenseless man."

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"I think that there's some dark magic at work here, and you can handle it better than I can."

Her brow knitted in confusion. "Dark magic?"

"Obviously, something had to have gone down here. There's no way they'd be like _that_ by choice. Oh no. Evil is definitely afoot…"

"Afoot?"

"Yes. _Afoot_."

"They're friends, Xander! Friends can be friendly with each other, otherwise they wouldn't call it 'friendship.' They'd have to call it something else."

"It doesn't matter what they call it! I just know that it's not right. They wouldn't be like that unless they've fallen into a magical dark pit of crazy!"

"Focus! We have to let them know what we found out!"

He took a step away from the couch. "I'm not getting anywhere near them. I have a way of catching the Hellmouth's special ickies. Remember the funny syphilis? I didn't even get it the fun way!"

She rolled her eyes, muttering about having to everything herself, as she found a long artifact on a table. She picked it up and gently poked Buffy's shoulder, just in case startling a possibly fever-crazed slayer had repercussions. "Buffy? Buffy?"

Slowly, her eyes began to open and she saw two people standing by the coffee table. They were both dressed in snow clothes—complete with mittens and odd fluffy hats—and wore surgical masks over their faces. She shook Giles until he woke up. He looked at them and then at Buffy, who was still in the same position as before.

"I think the fever has finally driven me insane…" he mumbled.

"It's us!" Willow exclaimed. "Willow and Xander."

Buffy rubbed her throbbing forehead. "Why are you dressed like Eskimos? There isn't another world culture dance thing at the Bronze, is there?"

"The creature that bit you infects the victim with a bug that's spread by breath. We don't want to be breathed on," she explained.

"You found out what it was?" Giles asked happily.

"Ailmentous Oxonous. It's actually kind of cuddly once you get past the unattractiveness, violent nature, and its intent to eat you…" Xander shrugged. "We got the stuff to make you better."

"Great! I've almost forgotten what it's like to feel good," she smiled as she untangled herself from Giles, like it was natural for her limbs to be snared with his in the first place.

"Xander and I are going to cook up a cure to the bite. It won't take long. It's reminds me of my grandma's special latke recipe, only grosser and with magical ingredients…" Willow smiled as she emptied her bag's contents onto the coffee table.

Giles looked at Xander with a frown. "He's going to help?"

"Yes, I'm going to help. I'm not as much of a screw up as you think I am, and I'd appreciate some support. You aren't helping my fragile ego."

"Yes, of course. I apologize, Xander. I'm sure that you and Willow know what you're doing."

Buffy leaned back on the couch right beside his shoulder, rubbing her aching temples. "And that's Giles-speak for '_don't screw it up_'."

He smirked. "I suppose you're right. Don't screw it up."

"Don't worry. We have it under control. Just relax and watch the masters at work," Willow replied confidently.

"More like the master and her assistant," Xander rephrased. They all stared at him. "What? It's a disclaimer in case I mess up."

They started the ritual, which seemed more like making dinner than a cure, while Buffy and Giles watched. She kept massaging little circles into her forehead like it would take away the pain. He noticed and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Buffy? Are you all right?"

"Just fine and dandy. Peachy, even."

He gently pried her hand away and took over the task of easing the pain between her eyes with soft fingertips. Xander was pouring dried newt livers into the pot when he saw what was going on between them. His hand slipped and collided with Willow's arm. She caught the candle before it fell to the floor.

"Xand—" she started to chide when he pushed her chin towards the couch.

Buffy was almost asleep and Giles was completely oblivious to their existence. She turned to Xander with a small shrug. It didn't seem too weird to her until he whispered, "Remember the library? I totally used that move! That's _my_ move the G-man is using on the Buffster!"

She shook her head. "Get your mind out of the gutter! She's sick. He's just trying to make her feel better."

"We live on a Hellmouth! Nothing is 'just' anything!"

"Your sempervirens root is burning."

He looked down and let out a small cry at the gurgling pot. He turned the temperature down and both Giles and Buffy glared at him nervously. "I know what I'm doing," he said defensively and added quietly, "…sort of."

"As long as I don't turn into a frog and I feel better, I'll be happy…" Buffy yawned.

"I can't make any promises," he returned as he sprinkled powdered pigmy into the pot.

After a few more ingredients, Willow and Xander linked hands over the steaming cauldron. She taught him the chant on the way over, and in unison they began the spell.

"Para aceta mol mino ilide phen ifebrin, banesin crocin dapa dolo tam tap en anol."

The liquid flashed a bright shade of yellow. Willow scooped some of the goo into two mugs and handed them to Giles and Buffy.

"I don't know how yucky it's going to taste, but it'll make you better."

Giles gazed into the bubbling fluid and said with some apprehension, "Thank you. Well, bottom's up."

They both drank it down in a few sips and dropped the mugs just moments after in a fit of coughing.

"Are they supposed to sound worse?" Xander asked, although he knew the answer.

"No! It's supposed to cure them completely!"

"That's not what it did," Buffy snapped. "I feel worse! What did you two do?"

The master and her assistant looked at each other. "He added everything and said the chant correctly. I know that I did everything right. What did you use?" she asked him.

"Powdered pigmy, sempervirens root, dried newt livers, troll toenails, and crow feathers."

Giles and Buffy exchanged expressions of disgust at the list of ingredients while Willow gaped at the pot, completely horrified.

"Crow feathers?" she stammered.

"Yeah, crow feathers," Xander nodded.

"I said '_raven feathers_' not '_crow feathers_,'Xander!"

"Crows, ravens, same difference. No biggie."

"No! They're two different birds! Crows are frightened by shirts stuffed with straw and ravens knock on people's doors! It's a fine line!" she disputed.

"Ravens knock on doors?"

"It was a Poe reference…" Giles growled in between rasps.

"Right. I knew that."

"Feathers change the outcome! It's like opposite day when you switch feathers! Instead of making them better, it would make them worse! They're worse! We have to go get raven feathers right now!"

"Whoa, can't do, Will. We were out of raven feathers. That's why I grabbed the crow ones. The new shipment won't be in for another few days."

"They could be dead in a few days!" she shouted and then quickly turned to them with an apologetic smile. "Not that I think you will. We'll fix it. We always find a way to fix it before the worst happens. I won't let you die again, or for the first time, Giles. But I hear Heaven is nice this time of year, though. Okay, I'll just shut up now…"

"That would be good," Buffy deadpanned.

"There has to be more than one magic shop that carries raven feathers in this general area," Giles pointed out. "This is a center for mystical convergence, after all."

"Yeah. There's that. We'll go find some raven feathers and then we'll come back here to make the cure. The real one. Not the opposite day one," Willow nodded as she nervously rung her hands together.

"So I didn't screw up too bad," Xander smiled. It quickly slid off of his face with a single glance from the ailing duo on the couch. "I'll go start the car…"

He bolted out the door and Willow gave them a half-grin. "We'll be back before you can say, '_raven feathers._'"

"Raven feathers," Buffy grumbled, sending death glares to the redheaded Wiccan.

"Point taken. I'll go join Xander in the car."

She started to go and turned back to them, about to add something. Buffy cut her off.

"Don't die, I know. Now go before we do."

"Right. Okay. Bye, Buffy. Bye, Giles. Feel better."

They both grunted and she quickly got out of there. She got into the car with Xander and pulled her snowcap and mask off.

"On a scale from _one_ to _going to stake me_, how mad are they?" he asked.

"Passing _going to stake you_ and edging towards _beheading_."

"Well that's comforting. Thanks for the visual."

"You're welcome. Now drive before they add me to their beheading list."

_A/N: So, I realize it's been forever since I started this story. As it turns out, I had continued it after all. I went through my files and found this in the wrong folder. I'm not sure where this is going and it might take me a bit, but I'm going to keep it up! Any suggestions would be more than welcome! Thank you if you wanted a continuation and thank you if you're reading it. I'm sorry it's been so long! _


	3. Chapter 3

"I think I'm dying," Giles mumbled, pressing the damp cloth to his forehead with gentle fingers.

Buffy had hers situated over her eyes, which made patting him sympathetically on the shoulder rather challenging. She missed and hit his forearm, but that was close enough. "Trust me. I know what that's like," she sighed.

Rough coughs and sneezes took turns coming from the duo. He used his handkerchief yet again and she added a Kleenex to the growing pile under the coffee table. Zombies were in better shape than they were; that they knew that from experience.

"I don't feel like moving at all. I doubt I could if I tried," he sniffed, sending a forlorn glance toward the kitchen and his tea kettle.

She nodded in agreement as a yawn came on. "Me either. I could use some more sleepy time. And a cookie."

He chuckled and carefully put his arm across her shoulders. "Why don't you lie down for a bit?"

She resituated into a position stretched across the couch, curled along the cushions with his thigh as a pillow. He covered her with a blanket and mindlessly played with her hair.

"Does your arm still hurt?" he asked softly, examining the bandage for green glowiness.

"A teensy bit. It's just really itchy. And chilly."

Quiet shivers racked her body, so he ran his hand up and down her arm in rhythmic motions to try to warm her. It felt nicer than she cared to admit. His hand kept moving, lulling him into a daze. She was almost asleep as well. Instead of being unhappy with their state of quarantine, they were oddly at ease with it. It was comfortable; the kind of comfort that she'd only known with honeys of boyfriend past. But, she was too sick to wig out or be anything but content.

"Giles," she said quietly. She could tell he was almost out. "_Giles_."

"Hmm?"

"You're about asleep up there. Why don't you just lay down? There's plenty of room. You're gonna get a back ache sleeping like that."

"I'm only resting. You need your sleep. I'll keep an eye out."

She smirked at that. "An eye out for what? Evil dust bunnies and soggy tea bags?"

"If Xander and Willow come back, I'd like to be awake."

"They can wake us again! Hopefully, Will won't poke me so hard next time…"

"I _am_ the Watcher, so I'll watch while you rest."

"Yeah, I know that the watcher watches and the slayer does stupid stuff that needs watching, but I'm not just _chase vamp, insert stake_, you know! It shouldn't be work work work, watch watch watch, all the time! You're cranky when you don't sleep right!" she replied resolvedly. "If I have to be stuck with you, I'm going to be stuck with jolly Giles and not cranky Giles."

He finally gave in. "All right, I'll doze off for awhile."

She moved to the edge so he could lie behind her. He was a bit too tall, so he scrunched at the knees. She fit with him like a puzzle piece and didn't mind when he had to put an arm around her. His other arm stayed bent snuggly at his head. They both used it for a cushion.

"_Jolly Giles_?" he suddenly realized. "How am I jolly?"

"You're British. It's a Britishy word."

"I suppose that makes sense in Buffy logic."

"I have my own logic?"

"Yes, when you aren't busy with, er… _chase vamp, insert stake_ … as you said…"

She laughed and he joined in. Her arm sat atop his and their fingers snared together, thumbs slowly moving around one another. A silence fell over them and she timed her breath with his, realizing how odd it was that it wasn't at all.

"Is this weird?" she asked.

"It is rather strange we're both ill when only you were bitten. It's also strange how normal remedies seem to have no effect, but I suppose a supernatural ailment should possess only a supernatural cure…"

"I meant this…positioning…" she rephrased.

He got what she meant. "I haven't really thought about it, to be completely honest."

"Yeah, that's me too. It's weird this isn't weird."

Neither knew what to say after that, nor could they move an inch. They stayed as they were and another thought came to her after what Giles said.

"Wait, how did you get sick too? Didn't Will say something about it being spread through breath?"

"I believe so. I can't recall much after you were bitten."

"I thought you hit Mr. Fugly with a piece of wood, but it's all so fuzzy. Then we got sick and came here and haven't left."

"Maybe there's a temporary side effect of amnesia with the venom."

"Maybe…" she trailed off, trying to remember how she gave Giles the illness. No answer came. "I think we should sleep now and maybe we'll get rid of the fuzziness. Don't tell me you can't. We're perfectly safe."

He sighed. "All right, if you say so…"

"I say so. Goodnight, Giles."

"Goodnight, Buffy," he answered, although they knew it wasn't night just yet.

She fell asleep in minutes, clutching his arm over her. He dozed off just moments after she did.

-.-.-

"I'm getting my head hacked off!" Xander exclaimed upon hearing the bad news.

"Can you say that again please?" Willow asked the owner politely.

"In most of the countries that supply our merchandise, a new restraint has been placed on killing ravens for the 'dark arts.' A lot of people are using them for some pretty nasty things. We have a shipment coming in next week of just a few, if you want to preorder," the magic shop owner said with a bright smile.

"Is this true for all of the magic shops around here?" he inquired with visions of Buffy, a large axe, and Giles tying him down—if they didn't croak—playing in his mind.

"It is. We all get out ingredients from the same places. You could try Matilda. She seems to have everything all of the time. What do you need these feathers for, anyway?"

"A cure. We sort of made our friends sicker and we need to make them well again. It's really serious," Willow informed her gravely.

"Ah. Alimentous Oxonous. I saw one going through my trash the other night. Their bite is terrible. How long ago did it happen?" she asked.

"Three days," Xander and Willow said in unison, having heard the complaints of the quarantined sickies.

The magic shop owner frowned for the first time since they'd been there, worry creeping into her eyes. "You won't need the feathers."

"What do you mean 'won't need the feathers'?" Xander swallowed nervously.

"I don't know how much you know about the Alimentous Oxonous, but it has a very picky appetite. If it can't eat the one it's bitten right away, it waits three nights to try again. That's when the illness is at its peak and the kill is easiest. It only eats once a year and it only eats the one it's chosen," she explained.

"How do you know?" Willow asked jumpily. "How can you know? It wasn't in the books!"

"Uh…actually…" Xander drawled carefully, "there was one section in a funny language I didn't read, so it could be there…"

The shop owner pulled a large book out and flipped to the right page. She read the section aloud, which was exactly what she said.

"It only eats mystics," the owner continued, "so your friends must be mystics."

"Not quite. I mean, he's practiced magic before, but he stopped. And she's… oh no…" Willow began, getting more and more agitated. "What's going to happen?"

"It'll hunt them down and finish the job," the owner sighed. "Unless they kill it, it won't stop until it's had dinner."

"We have to go warn them!" Willow shouted at Xander.

"Let's go," he agreed, starting for the car.

"It's a nasty beast. Watch your backs. It will bite whether it's hungry or not. The illness will kill you within a week on its own. Your friends are in trouble…" the owner said softly. "Be careful. Go for the fin on its back. That's the weak point."

They thanked the woman and started for Giles's place.

"How could we have missed this?" Willow cried. "_It's actually kind of cuddly_," she quoted, "We were so wrong! I've never been so wrong before in my entire life!"

"Chill out, Will! I need your brain because mine sure won't do much!" he paused as he started the engine, gripping the steering wheel in horror. "They're going to die and it's all my fault!"

"Don't say that."

"It's true! If I had just told you that there weren't any raven feathers, we would have had this talk earlier so they could be ready for Mr. Fugly instead of marinating!"

"I guess so…"

He gaped. "I needed some reassurance here, Will! _Oh no Xander, it's not your fault. You didn't know. It's okay. Yes, I've noticed that you've been working out_."

"I was just agreeing with you!"

"Friends aren't supposed to agree! They're supposed to comfort and lie through their teeth!"

"I'll remember that next time you screw up."

"Thank you. I'd appreciate it. Now, we need a plan here!"

She thought about it, announcing, "Save Buffy and Giles."

"Great plan…" he muttered, adding, "If they live, we are so dead."


	4. Chapter 4

They had never been so comfortable.

Other than the violent case of Hellmouth ickies, life was pretty good for the Slayer and her Watcher. Giles was softly snoring—the cute, almost-silent kind—and she had just woken. Shivers started sometime ago and they were getting worse and worse. The blanket was around her like a cocoon and poor Giles was left without anything but that sweater. Maybe it was haze from the fever, maybe it was from the survival training she had at camp as a kid, but something told her _body heat helps_. So, without much thought, she threw the blanket over them both and snuggled up to him. He didn't rouse, only tightened his grasp on her and continued snoring.

That sweater was so soft and warm. His hand was tender in hers and his arm was solider than she expected, even though she knew he had some strength from their training sessions. He shifted slightly, accidentally nuzzling into her hair. She could feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck. It was steady, but she expected that. There were few times Giles was unsteady, especially if she needed him to be the stable one. He always was and she couldn't thank him enough for it. She could see the good heart under the tweed and pretty eyes behind the glasses…

Whoa, she did _not_ think his eyes were pretty. No way. It's _Giles_. She wouldn't think that about _Giles_.

Just as she started to wig out over that, a loud noise like claws on the window caught her attention. She sat straight up, pulling his arm with her and saying nervously, "Giles? Did you hear that?"

-.-.-

"No one's answering," Xander growled. "_No one's answering!_"

Willow sat on the curb next to the car that had broken down. Their day couldn't get any worse.

"Have you tried everyone?" she asked, although she knew it was a stupid question.

"Yes, _everyone_! Even people who aren't Scoobies!" he snapped. "How can the car break down now of all times? How? Is there some prophecy about the Slayer becoming supper?"

She looked worriedly at the steaming engine. The fact Xander heard it rattling and missed the last two tune-ups was forgotten. "It's not going to move, is it?"

"Not unless it's towed or we push it!" he hissed, pacing on the sidewalk. "Where is everyone in Sunnydale? On vacation? You'd think they'd have the decency to at least leave a memo or something! Is a note in fog on a bathroom mirror too much to ask? Is it?"

"Focus, Xander! We can't sit here on the curb waiting for someone to pick us up! We need to get to Buffy and Giles!"  
He huffed. "They're all the way across town!"

"So we'll walk!"

"What if someone steals the car?"

"You said yourself it won't move unless it's towed or pushed!"  
"What if someone has it towed or pushes it?" he rephrased.

"Do you want to be the one to kill Giles and the Slayer?"

He thought about it. She screamed at him, "XANDER!"

"Right! Let's go do the rescuing thing!" he nodded, beginning to walk.

She stopped him. "It's the other way."

"No, it's this way."

They were getting nowhere fast.

-.-.-

Giles sat up behind her, arm still clinging to her waist. "Hear what?"

The noise started again and she whispered, "That."

Both of them looked at the window in silence. Their conditions weren't exactly the best for leaping into heroics, so they waited. Suddenly, they saw the beast. Well, they saw Cupcake, the neighbor's tabby, leap on the sill. Buffy breathed a sigh of relief and Giles put his other hand on her shoulder.

"I thought it was something else," she explained sheepishly.

"No matter. Let's lie back down for a bit until Cupcake wanders off."

She smirked, turning to look at him. "Cupcake?"

"The neighbor's cat," he answered, smiling softly. He fell quiet, as did she, noticing how close their faces were.

She slowly pulled away and they curled together like they had been. His chest rose with a heavy sigh and she put a hand on his arm. "How ya feeling?" she asked gently.

"Like a tree has fallen on my head and been set on fire," he responded. "How are you faring?"

"Not right."

"Not right?"

"No. I've been shaking for the last hour and I'm going between hot and cold faster than Cordy could. Not to mention the headache. Worse pressure than passing math."

He untangled his hand from hers and felt her forehead. She was way too feverish. Somehow, he managed to get the thermometer and told her to put it under her tongue. She protested, but did as she was told. He continued to fuss over her, finding her limbs trembling and neck clammy.

"Giles," she said quietly. "I'm not feeling too good…"

The thermometer tumbled to the floor and he saw the reading passing 105.6 and it hadn't finished. She shook and shook as he held her close to his chest, brushing the hair from her face.

"Buffy? Can you hear me?" he called, "Buffy?"

Her eyes had come to a close. She was out cold from the fever and he knew his fever was on the rise as well. Since medicine wasn't working and the Scoobies were lost in the wind, he had to resort to a more primitive method to lower their temps. Otherwise, she mightn't wake up again.

He gathered her in his arms and clumsily staggered towards the stairs. Her hands had automatically gripped his sweater like they knew that they should be there. It took awhile to climb them without falling. He almost did more than once and yet every time, he found a way to keep going. He'd always find a way for her.

The bathroom light flickered dimly and he quickly made his way into the shower. He turned the water on, making sure to keep it tepid and not too cold, and slouched against the wall. She was still unresponsive. Water cascaded quickly, running in thin trails over their flesh. It wasn't frigid, but compared to their internal thermostats it was freezing. The sweater grew soggy and quakes racked his bones. He stayed firmly propped against the tile, caressing her cheek to revive her and wipe the drops from her eyes.

"Buffy?" he repeated, attempting to sound relaxed.

Gradually, she started to come around to the sweet sound of his accent. A smile of relief washed over him and he swept some of the damp hair from her forehead. She studied him in a haze, noting the water-sprinkled glasses.

"You need to check the roof, Giles. It's raining in your living room."

He chuckled. "It's not raining. You have a very high fever and we're in the shower to try to bring it down."

"Did you know that I can SUIF?"

"What?"

"Slay under the influence of fever."

"Right. Of course."

She dropped her gaze to his arms, seeing he held her. "I wanna stand up," she decided.

"Do you think you can?"

"Yeah. Remember the slayage? Fevers don't affect me at all."

"If you insist…" he reluctantly agreed as he set her down.

She stayed standing for less than ten seconds, toppling to his chest. He caught her and kept his hands planted on her waist and her fingers were splayed upon his shoulders. They stood there for a moment, eyes locked. He didn't move until her arms looped around his neck. Then, he bent his head. They moved in, water pouring onto them and it was completely natural. His face pressed against hers, taking in every bit of her cool skin. Just when their lips hovered dangerously close, a horrible ruckus jolted them into reality.

"I heard _that,_" Giles muttered, "and I seriously doubt it was Cupcake this time."

"Maybe it was and she just really _really_ wants some milk…"

Something growled and it didn't sound like a kitty cat.

"And maybe she learned to growl like a lion from Animal Planet…" Buffy hoped.

"Is it just me, or did that sound like the creature that bit you?"

"Yeah it did. That much I remember…"

Two glowy eyes and horrible claws appeared in the hallway.

"Uh-oh…" she declared.

_A/N: Thank you so much for the support! I can't express how much it means to me. Please continue to let me know what you think! I'm sort of new to Buffy fan fiction and I haven't seen over half of the show, so any opinions or ideas are very much appreciated! Thanks again. I love you guys :)_


	5. Chapter 5

"Do you think you're up to slaying under the influence of fever?" Giles asked her.

"I don't think we have much of a choice," she answered. "You're gonna have to be my legs. I'll be the arms. Between us, we'll have one whole sick person."

"Wonderful. I see you've been working on your math skills."

"You know me, always looking for the enriching enrichment of knowledge."

Mr. Fugly went by, and they wondered why it didn't stop. A large stream of green gunk formed a line in front of the door.

"It's trapping us! What a clever beast," Giles thoughtfully commented.

"We can admire it's intelligence after we kill it. We need a way out."

"Well, my bathroom didn't come equipped with a trap door, nor an emergency exit in case of supernatural attacks."

"You'd think it would, being Sunnydale and all."

"We can talk to city planners and housing developers after we kill it."

She looked around, finding a few things she could use. "Giles, take me over to the counter. I have to pull a MacGyver."

He shakily stepped out of the still-running shower and stood by the sink. He'd worry about the water bill later. She grabbed his razor blades, a can of hairspray, a plunger, and a few other small items. The razors became part of the plunger, stuck in the handle and kept down by floss and toothpaste. It wasn't exactly sturdy, but she could get at least one hit out of it before getting something of the lethal variety.

"Where do you keep the weapons?" she asked him, handing the hairspray over.

"In a trunk in my bedroom closet."

"We're going that way. Here's the plan—"

"I spray it as a distraction while you hit it with your plunger-razor axe?"

She smiled. "You know me, Giles. Don't hang around it, okay? Just run for your room and I'll do the whacking."

By that time, it had finished a gooey barrier, standing alert and hungry.

"Avoid the goop," she warned him.

"I thought that went without saying…"

The thing growled again, doing an impatient move with its claws, not unlike a certain Michael Jackson music video.

"Go now before it gets any grouchier."

Giles went, narrowly clearing the green nastiness. He slouched on the wall for a breath, but the monster lunched forward. He sprayed it right in the eyes and mouth just in time as Buffy hit it in the head. As predicted, the razors fell right off. One actually worked, buying them the time to get down the hall.

It pursued them without pause. Buffy slammed the door in its face and Giles sat them on the bed for a breather. He was close to passing out. She wasn't much better and the thing was trying to break down the door.

"Where's the closet?" she asked. Giles pointed and she unsteadily got there, sinking to the floor the second she got into it. A large chest sat there, under lock and key. "The key?"

He retrieved it from a drawer and tossed. She caught it and pried the lid off, smiling at the overkill of his armory. The weapons were almost too heavy to wield in their state; however, they'd have to work it out. She sat next to him with their selections, listening to its persistence.

"What's the plan?" she wheezed, couching gunk into a tissue.

"We kill it," he responded, loading his crossbow.

"I like it. Let's go."

They stood, she fell against his side, he put her upright, and they marched to the door. "On the count of three," he said, "One…two…"

The door flew open and they flew in reverse. Giles sighed when he saw the damage.

"Now I'll need to buy a door," he complained, propping on his elbows.

"Get something in tan. It'll match the walls," she responded, using her sword to get on her feet.

"I'll consider that."

The legs ran for Buffy first, so Giles shot it between the eyes. Loud, whiny screeches sounded from the creature, and it continued on. She sliced, which didn't stop it from picking her up, and Giles stood, having retrieved a mace. He struck it until Buffy was released—released meaning thrown aside.

For awhile, it was one on one with him. She slowly made her way to the double-headed axe. It took all her strength to hold, let alone swing, but that fiend was clawing Giles. She could see some marks forming, blood being drawn. In a rage, she went after the fin. She hit the pointiness once, the beast recoiled from Giles, and suddenly it was like a scene from bull riding competitions.

Bucking with her clutching its back, that fin was carved one piece at a time. Giles continued a frontal assault with the mace and a war hammer. She was on the last ridge when it threw her into the hall. Giles looked and saw she was down, completely unmoving. It only took a single blow to kill it, but he gave it a few more for good measure. Then, he ran to his Slayer, collapsing at her side.

"Buffy?" he spoke, gingerly collecting her in his arms. He supported her head with fraught fingertips, leaning to listen for life. It was there.

"Giles?" she murmured, eyelids opening. He peered down, only inches from her. She remembered something. "I'm having a flash back," she began. "This is how I got you sick."

He thought about it, recalling her in his arms, coughing and confused, clutching his jacket. He'd been so happy she didn't die, he'd leaned his forehead against hers, taking in the sensation of her breath on his mouth. That's when she wheezed and he joined in.

"I believe so," he agreed.

She gave him a once over. "You're covered in Mr. Fugly's guts."

"So are you."

"The shower is still going."

"Come on now, before I pass out…" he said as he helped her up and over the green barrier.

They rinsed off, not so cuddly as before, and he handed her his robe while he left for his room to change. When he returned, she was in it and almost asleep standing up. He led her to the bed and tucked her in.

"Well, our plan worked," she yawned.

"It did indeed. However, I'm incredibly worn out."

"That's SUIF, for you."

He decided to check her temperature, yet the thermometer was downstairs. "Do you still feel very feverish?" he asked, hoping she'd have a read on it.

"I don't know."

"I want to check, but I haven't a way to do so."

"Just feel."

He put his cold hand on her, meeting a heat comparable to touching fire. On an instinct, he bent and pressed his mouth to the center of her head, moving to set his cheek there. For some reason, she didn't flinch when he did.

"It seems to have dropped slightly. Perhaps we're on the mend," he sighed, lying beside her.

"Oh good. Maybe Will and Xander have the feathers."

"We can only hope."

He turned over on his side, and within moments started snoring. She curled up behind, cautiously placing her arm around him and snuggling into his shoulder. It was the stress of almost dying, she figured, especially after being stuck inside together for so long. Their bond was even stronger. A part of her didn't want to go back home. She'd miss his soft clothes and the smell of old books and tea. She'd just miss _him_.

-.-.-

"Oh no!" Willow cried upon seeing the front door torn from its hinges. They'd finally agreed on which direction. It was the wrong one. They didn't find out until reaching the outskirts of town.

"Maybe it was just…" Xander stopped, unable to come up with what else could have bashed it in. "This is Giles's doing! If he had just kept his place and stayed here, we would have known exactly where to go! But no, he had to go back to British land where everyone wears three piece suits and carries crumpets in their pockets!" he lashed out, storming inside. She followed, close to tears.

The living room was untouched; although, green goo covered the stairs. They followed it to Giles's bedroom. The corpse was left on the floor with the weapons and the Slayer slept peacefully, snuggling with her Watcher.

"Again? Really?" Xander growled. "We came all this way to save them and they're cuddling in his bed like everything is just peachy. What's a little battle to death when you're the Slayer and her faithful Watcher_?_ And you know what! They're the most inconsiderate human beings to make us think they're in trouble _and_ to leave this kind of mess to get on my new sneakers!"

"What's inconsiderate is you waking two sick people after they've had an epic battle!" she whispered harshly. "And as for Buffy and Giles, there's nothing wrong with it. They're two adults with a great relationship and they've been through a lot together, especially because of this ugly creature! Let it go!"

He shut up. She folded her arms with a nod. "Serves you right, Alexander Harris. Now clean this up."

"What? I'm not cleaning anything up! I didn't make this mess!"

"Oh really? Who's the one switching feathers?"

"That doesn't—"

"You said yourself things would be different if you hadn't screwed up! This is _your_ fault, not Giles's or Buffy's! I'm walking home and you're doing the Mr. Clean thing."

She left and he snarled at the disgusting condition of the upstairs level. "Why am I the one always getting into these situations? Why me?" he grumbled.

_A/N: It only took me five chapters to figure out this is set in an AU season six. Just for future reference and all that… Again, I love my reviewers! This quarantine still has some ways to go, even if Mr. Fugly is icky tartare for Xander to clean up… _


	6. Chapter 6

Giles rested on the verge of waking and sleeping, caught in that slumberous realm. He turned, noticing an arm about him. His eyelids peeled open and Buffy's face came into view. Her arm sat loosely on his side and he smiled to himself. The turn had roused her too and, with a quiet sigh, her irises looked back at his. She saw that smile and smiled back.

"What?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he returned.

"You're being jolly Giles."

"I suppose I am."

"Something good happen while I was asleep?"

"No, I was only thinking. I'm glad you're all right."

"I am. Just a little banged up is all. Looks like you are too," she frowned, reaching for a long scratch on his neck. He winced under the pressure of her thumb. "Sorry…"

"No worries," he assured her, his eyes automatically shutting from the soothing motion. She kept it up on that particular cut, moving to another along his jaw.

"So, uh, did you…" she started, trying to grasp the thought. His skin was so…

"Did I…?"

"Last night, I thought I heard someone. Here. In the room. Other than us."

"I thought I did, but I assumed it was a dream."

She noticed their surroundings. "Someone cleaned up our mess."

He reluctantly looked. "Oh, they did. It must have been Willow and Xander."

"Yeah. That was nice."

"It was."

He closed his eyes again and she gently turned his chin, spotting more cuts on the other side. "That thing got you good. Do they hurt?"

"Not really. Only if pressed…" he answered.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't—"

"No, it doesn't hurt when you do. It helps, actually."

She lightly traced one after another, thinking back on their moment in the shower the day before. He was so close to her, but if he had been just a bit closer…

Somehow, she'd slid nearer to him during that train of thought. They shared a pillow; one hand on his face, the other cradling his elbow. She studied him, a nervous flutter in her heart. His lips were of particular interest, almost like she hadn't noticed them until that moment. Then, one thought led to another, a curiosity. What would it be like if she kissed her Watcher? Was that against the rules? Would some bad thing happen, like they were turned into frogs or lost their souls? Only one way to find out…

"Good morning!" Willow called happily. Buffy rolled off Giles faster than if he'd been Principal Snyder, may he be resting in pieces. Willow picked up on that vibe and asked carefully, "Bad time?"

"No, not at all. Why would it be a bad time? There's only good time here. Nothing bad going on at all. Just good, good, good."

She raised her eyebrows. "Okey dokey. We brought you some breakfast!"

Giles slowly sat up against the pillows, reaching for his glasses. "You have? How thoughtful. And thank you for cleaning up."

"That was Xander. I made him."

"You did?" Buffy laughed.

"Oh yes. I laid down the law, ruled with an iron fist! I'm really tough, you know."

Xander appeared with a tray holding the breakfast they brought. Willow leapt excitedly. "We got you these puffy little scone thingies! They're like sconettes or something! I thought they were cute."

"Oh yeah. You're the toughest gal I know, Will," she smiled.

"That's right! We also got you doughnuts and coffee and general breakfasty stuff."

Xander set the tray down next to Buffy. "She spent almost twenty minutes picking this out."

"So I'm not great at making decisions. But when I make them, I really make them!"

"Thanks guys. So how's the cure coming?" Buffy inquired, going for a sconette.

"Well, about that…" Willow trailed off, looking to Xander.

"There's a ban on raven feathers. They won't get a shipment for another few days and we won't get one until then either," he explained.

Giles and Buffy glared. Xander and Willow backed up a few steps.

"But the one lady we talked to knew a lot about the Alimentous Oxonous. She opens her store in an hour, so we're going to go see her again. Maybe she'll have something to cure you or at least help until the feathers come in," Willow stated nervously. "You aren't going to behead us are you?"

"We'll answer that after you speak to the shop owner," Giles grunted, going for the coffee.

"I think we should go now," Xander said. "You know, camp out in the front…show how determined we are to fix our mistake…"

"_Your_ mistake," Willow snapped.

"Must you point that out?"

"Yes."

"Fair enough."

"I think it would be best if you went as soon as possible," Giles said, tossing a glare in Xander's direction. "I have a dreadful headache and oddly enough it came just now."

"Point taken," Xander muttered. "But you do know I just installed a new, front door, right? That should get me closer on the side of good, huh? I got it from work, so you'll have to pay…" he stopped, seeing Giles becoming more disdainful, "…but that can wait. I just didn't want any flies or demons getting in."

"Thank you," he responded.

"You're welcome."

"Is there anything else we can do?" Willow asked weakly.

"Can you pick up some more clothes for me? I'm out of outfits and I doubt tweed will go with my shoes…" Buffy smiled at Giles and he returned a soft grin. At that point, the Scoobies noticed her attire: his robe.

"Oh, okay. Anything specific?" Willow responded distractedly. Why was she in his robe?

"I'm not going dancing at the Bronze or walking the red carpet, so I think comfy clothes will do. Oh, and grab some magazines. I have a feeling we'll be stuck in here for awhile."

"You got it, Buff. Loving the robe, by the way," Xander commented. Willow stomped on his foot and pulled him toward the hall.

"Well, we're going now. Try to get some rest. I bet you're really tired after killing that thing! I'm impressed you could, being sick and stuff. Not that I didn't believe in you. You're the Slayer and the Watcher, I mean. That's what you do. You slay and you watch and you get rid of evil fuglies to better the world, no matter how messy it gets! It looked like it got really messy and icky. I bet you had to shower after that! And now you're wearing Giles's robe," she froze the second it slipped out. Buffy and Giles blankly stared, so she kept walking after Xander. "See you later!"

After they left, there was a moment of silence. Buffy held out a sconette. "Have you tried these yet?"

"No, I haven't," he replied, taking it and ignoring the awkwardness Willow and Xander never failed to create.

They enjoyed their breakfast, she enjoyed the warmth of his robe, and all was forgotten—even the moment of insanity in which she wanted to kiss _Giles_. She suppressed a shudder at the thought.

-.-.-

Willow rifled through Buffy's room for some clothes while Xander sat on her bed, flipping through her magazines. "So, how about the Buffster in the G-man's robe? Are you seeing it yet?"

"Seeing what?" she frowned.

"Buffy and Giles making with the smoochies! She's such a Watcher's pet."

"Come to think of it, when I walked in, she acted jumpy like I interrupted something!"

"Something is definitely there. She's always batting her eyes at him and he's always fussing over her, doing that British stuttering thing…" he responded.

"She's always been jealous if anyone else took away his attention, and he's always been kinda wary of her boyfriends…but that could be the whole vampire and member-of-demon-hunting-military-operations thing."

"No, there was more than that. More of a wary, jealous vibe than a wary, she-could-be-in-mortal-danger vibe. But that was there too."

"I still don't know, Xander…"

"Will, there's been a scandal right under our noses! I bet they're secretly together!"

She scoffed. "Buffy would tell me."

"She hasn't always kept us in the loop, you know! Especially when a certain moody, soul-having, leather-clad vamp named Angel was concerned. A relationship with Giles would fall in the secretive category even further than one with fang boy. He's her Watcher and so…_old_…"

"He's not _that_ old. Angel is older than he is. I mean, in number not face value. I just, you really don't think Giles and Buffy are…do you? Would they? Could they? Have they? Are they? Will they?"

"Overloading on the questions there, Will."

"Be honest with me! I can take it! Do you think they've been dating?"

"Think about it: the late nights 'training' together, the research, the patrols…"

"You can't think that they were—"  
"Doing it, doing it, totally doing it."

"I always thought Giles was fired because he cared about her like a father, but I guess it could be the other kind of love. How could she not tell me? This is huge! This is life changing! Bigger than when they changed coke into New Coke! I—I can't believe it…"

"Oh believe it," he answered. "They're probably making out _right now_."

-.-.-

The water was cold, frigid daggers over her hands. She looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror; peaked, pale features, tired eyes, faint cuts, bed head, but she couldn't help admiring that robe. She'd have to find an excuse to wear it again sometime…

"Buffy?" Giles called in a frantic tone.

Without letting her illness slow her motions, she darted into the bedroom and to his side. "Giles? What's wrong?"

"I must have dozed off. I had a nightmare and you weren't here when I woke."

"Sorry. Had to run to the little girl's room."

There was a hint of lingering fear in his eyes. It ran through her when he gazed, as if to assure himself she was still breathing. She put a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to do the talky feelings thing?"

"About what exactly?" he answered, fiddling with his glasses.

"This nightmare. It's obviously got you wigged. So, spill."

He seemed timid, more so than she'd seen. She thought about closing the subject, but he started to speak just as her mouth moved to do the same.

"It's been a reoccurring nightmare since I've known you, Buffy. Sometimes, it varies, but the result is always the same. You die and I've failed to protect you. Your death, or deaths, only makes the nightmare more real. When I awoke and you were gone, I started to panic and think those close calls yesterday weren't just that."

She wasn't sure what hit her harder: what he said or the sincerity with which he said it. It took a moment to regain the strength to answer him. "Well, they were and you're stuck with me."

"I'm very glad I am."

"You know, I'm glad I'm stuck with you too."

The pillows rustled as she settled into a position next to him. Her hand remained planted on his shoulder, her arm snaking across his breadth. He leaned against her, eyes shut, grunting and wincing in pain.

"You okay?" she asked worriedly.

"Perhaps my headache wasn't Xander after all. I can swear there's a little bugger with a sledge hammer in there."

She laughed, mindlessly relocating her hand to his temple. "I'm just stuffy, and _not_ the boring kind."

"I doubt you could be the boring kind if you tried."

Her fingertips went to work, massaging and occasionally running through his hair. That insanity crept back into her mind. There Giles was, snuggling up to her contentedly, practically purring under her touch, and she was focused on his smiling mouth. He had a cute smile, she thought, quickly chiding herself for thinking it. It wasn't nearly as cute as his accent, though.

If someone didn't get her out of there soon, Giles would be kissed before he knew whose lips hit him…


	7. Chapter 7

_Ding._ The bell clanged as soon as they walked through the magic shop door. Xander looked up at it, nervously rambling, "Why do stores put bells on doors? I can understand a bell on a cow. You want to hear if it's walking off. But a door isn't going anywhere. Sure, it makes noise when someone walks in, but people can talk. They'll let you know when they're in there. It can't be for security, either. A burglar isn't going to hear a bell, freak out, and decide maybe he shouldn't keep on with his diabolical plan and pantyhose-mask._"_

"Can you please stop talking?" Willow whispered upon seeing the shop owner. "I don't want the lady to think we're robbers."

"Hello," the owner said cheerfully as they walked up.

"We're here about the Alimentous Oxonous again," Willow explained.

"I see. So I take it your friends are…?" she questioned carefully.

"Just fine! They killed that sucker like nobody's business! Now we just have to get them well again before they die from the venom."

"And I had to clean it up," Xander grumbled under his breath. She sent him a glare, instantly quelling him.

The shop owner's expression was that of surprise. "Really? They killed it? And she's fine?"

"They sure did," she nodded proudly. "We were wondering if there's any other cure that doesn't require banned ingredients."

"I wish I could help you out, but I really can't. The feathers won't be in until next week and that's the only cure."

"Isn't there something you have to help? Anything to keep them alive until then?" Xander hoped.

"No. Nothing. Sorry."

"How long do they have?" Willow choked. "I mean, can they make it? They can make it, right?"

"She won't have long at all once…" the shop owner paused, quickly adding, "…once the illness reaches its peak."

"That was the third night," Xander frowned.

"Yeah. Again, so sorry. I have to go check inventory. Excuse me."

She hurried away, causing Willow and Xander to exchange looks.

"She seemed…off…" he commented.

"Maybe she's just upset she can't do anything for us."

"Maybe. It was more like a twitchy, big bad thing to me."

"You're seeing things, Xander."

In the back, the shop owner retreated to her workshop. The remnants of a summoning spell clung to the table and a shrine lined the walls. She picked a photograph from the corkboard, tenderly caressing the frozen face.

"If it couldn't end her, I guess I'll have to take matters into my own hands. You must be free of her, free for me to have…" she spoke to the photo, holding it to her chest. "The Slayer is probably lying weakly in bed, completely miserable and unaware of her danger…" she commenced with the maniacal laughter, stopping suddenly. "I need some new material. Talk about cliché."

-.-.-

"I got one," she smiled, sitting beside him cross-legged.

"Do share," he returned, leaning his temple against his fist.

"This vampire walks into a bar. He asks the bartender if he serves a Bloody Mary. He says he does and slides the vamp one. So the vampire takes a sip and looks grossed out, right, and asks, 'Are you sure this is a Bloody Mary?' The bartender replies, 'Yeah. Positive.' So the vamp goes, 'No wonder. I like my blood negative.' Get it? Blood types?" she laughed. He laughed with her.

"Where in the world did you hear that?"

"Two vamps I dusted outside of a pub. I heard another one about a chaos demon, a troll, and a warlock."

"Oh. Very intriguing. However, I seriously doubt it's as entertaining as a joke I picked up while studying in Brussels many summers ago."

"Really? Well, let's hear it."

"Two vampires are enjoying a drink one evening. The first has just rented a room to a strapping, young politician. He says to the second, 'This man is driving me bonkers. He drains the public dry, will kill or suck anyone to get what he wants, hasn't a soul, has a heart no one can pierce—except with a wooden stake, and he'll be around until some light is shed on him!' The second vampire responds, 'He sounds exactly like one of us.' The first answers, 'Oh, I know that. I just can't stand that politicians are so much better at being evil bloodsuckers than we are.'"

Her shoulders quaked with chortles. The fog of fever and hammering headache made most anything hilarious. She wiped the tears from her eyes, choking, "That's so bad it's good. I can't believe I'm laughing."

"I'm starting to fear the worst, Buffy," he stated, joining the sniggering.

"What would that be, Giles?"

"We've lost our minds."

Laughter resumed. She motioned to him to cut it out, wheezing, "Stop it! You're making me giggly!"

"I like it when you're um… all … giggly…"

"How do you figure that in Giles logic?"

"Your laugh is very enchanting."

"I find your laugh rather adorable too."

"Oh dear. You're beginning to sound like me. We're quite far-gone, aren't we?"

"I'm afraid so."

There was that cheery chuckling once more. He stretched out with his hands neatly folded on his chest, while she plopped beside him, propping on her elbow and several pillows. He looked over at her and she grinned.

"What?"

"I'm glad you're the one quarantined with me, and not just because Xander can drive me insane and Willow can be a bit…nervous…in these situations."

"Willow nervous? Really? Not the Willow I know," she joked.

He took a brief moment to smirk, then continued, "As you know, I'm still very fond of the pair of them and the others, but they aren't you."

She couldn't believe she blushed. She lightly pushed his arm to cover. "Aw shucks. You're too sweet."

"I mean it. I care a lot about you, and I hope you know that."

"Yeah, I know. I care a lot about you too. I don't really show it. All that Slayer rebellion stuff. Fight the power and whatnot."

His smirk tugged to a smile and he gently took her hand. "You do show it."

Her fingers twined about his, relaxing when his thumb grazed the back of her hand in rhythmic motions. Discreetly, they moved closer.

"Do you ever think…" she began, trailing off.

"Think what?"

"About the way things work. It's like one little choice, one little event, can change everything. If I hadn't gone for a punch and instead did a kick, Mr. Fugly maybe wouldn't have bitten me. Then, you wouldn't be sick, we wouldn't be here, and everything since being here wouldn't have happened. Your new place wouldn't be trashed, you wouldn't almost be out of tea, work we can't do wouldn't be piling up, and we'd have gone like we always do. Just another day and another slay, you know?"

"Yes. Things do have a way of turning out. No one understands the reason behind it, but there always is one."

"I can't help replaying both battles in my head. Every move we made is in super slow motion, close up, on rewind. Both times, I swear I wouldn't have done that. I wouldn't have made the choice I did."

He looked down at their tangled hands, gently caressing her fingers with his own. "What do you mean? Do you believe something has control over you?"

"No, nothing bad juju-ish. I meant that the way things played out were obviously for a reason. The first time we were meant to get sick and the second time we were meant to live so we could _stay_ sick. I feel like the universe has a flashing motel sign telling us we're supposed to be here. Vacancy at Giles's. Checkout time undetermined."

"Everything has been rather fated, I agree. I almost didn't go on that patrol and I almost kept my weapon's chest in the living room like before. If I had, this would all be very different."

"You got that right. It'd probably be better. You wouldn't have to put up with me and my lame jokes."

"I didn't mean that in a bad way. It would be different, but I'm glad it's not. Spending so much time with you, even under these circumstances, has been wonderful. I've never felt closer to you," he practically whispered.

"It has been nice. The time and the closeness…"

"And, your jokes aren't nearly as hokey as mine."

She smiled. "Politics are always funny. You can't go wrong with a properly placed Clinton joke. Trust me. There's nothing that'll make a dinner party better. And besides, your joke had vampires _and_ politicians. That's like a double funny in the Slayer handbook."

"The one you haven't read?"

"That would be the one. But who needs it? I got the Buffy handbook and the Giles footnotes to back me up."

He grinned. "You do."

"How long do I do?"

"For as long as you need."

"Looks like you're stuck here forever, then."

They were only inches apart. He cautiously reached out, tucking some stray hair behind her ear. His palm lingered there, holding her face tenderly. She glanced at it and he started to pull away, saying, "I hope I haven't overstepped my bounds."

"Oh no. No stepping here," she assured him, moving a bit closer. "Just perfectly still feet nowhere near stepping or walking or frolicking across any bounds."

His fingers moved to her forehead, brushing along her skin one way and the other. "Are you still feeling feverish?"

"I uh, no…" she said distractedly. She felt the insanity pulling her downward, to those lips that probably tasted of tea and sconettes…

"That's… good…" he returned just as distractedly. "I'm… happy… to hear…"

She began to move in and he held steady, gazing deeply into her eyes. He had that look, the one where a man knows a woman is about to ravage his mouth like a starving lioness. His eyes were closed, her mouth was starting to open, their intent was not unknown. A kiss was coming on and they were powerless to stop it.


	8. Chapter 8

Xander and Willow wandered into the Magic Box where Anya began the pitch, "Welcome to the Magic Box! We're running a sale on…" she stopped when she saw them. "Oh. It's you."

"Love you too, honey," Xander grinned, pecking her on the cheek.

She saw Willow's sad face. "What's with your downtrodden exterior? Something bad happen?"

"The other magic shop owner says there's nothing we can do for Buffy and Giles," she explained.

"Don't listen to her. She's the competition and knows absolutely nothing in comparison to our vast familiarity with various subjects pertaining to magic and all things demon. We have the largest inventory of—"

"An," Xander said gently, "You don't have to sell the shop to us. We aren't here to buy something."

"Well you should be! There's no point in loitering here unless you're going to make a purchase! Donations are acceptable too," she smiled brightly. Xander slid her several coins he had in his pocket. She added them excitedly to the register. "Now I have an even number of pennies!"

"Ah, what it takes to make my girl happy!"

"At least she's happy," Willow sighed. "What are we going to do? Buffy and Giles are going to die before get the raven feathers!"

"What do you need raven feathers for?" Anya scoffed.

"The cure! Where have you been?"

"Right here, running the shop for Giles while he's quarantined and everyone else flails about like poultry after decapitation!"

"Now ladies," Xander intervened. "We haven't exactly been a cohesive unit since the G-man and Buffster are out of commission. It isn't anyone's fault."

Both women muttered angrily for a moment before Anya spoke up. "Tell me what the problem is and maybe I can help because that's what empathetic, supportive members of society do."

"They've been bitten by the Alimentous Oxonous, remember?" Willow snapped. "Or are you too busy counting money to care if our friends are sick?"

"Excuse me if I didn't hear what it was! I was working! I only half listen when the research goes on anyway."

Before Willow could speak, Xander cut in. "Now that you have heard it, do you know anything?"

"Of course I do. My ex had a pet AO. They're not the brightest. That's why they're usually treated like canines in the demon community. Easily trained—usually for a certain task, loyal, and only eat once a year. Can't go wrong with easy and affordable."

"But what about its bite?" Willow asked.

"It's pretty bad, makes whoever the chew toy was ill, but it's not fatal. There is only one cure, but the symptoms are treatable with a combination of ibuprofen and goblin dust."

"The lady said it would kill them!" Willow exclaimed. "She didn't know what she was talking about!"

"That happens to mortals who own shops directly in competition with, and yet incredibly inferior, to ours."

"So they'll be okay?" she smiled.

"They'll be just fine."

"Where can we get the feel good stuff?" Xander asked.

"Get some over-the-counter medication composed of ibuprofen, add a pinch of goblin dust, and place in the liquid of your choosing. It's like one of those things called a roofie, but not."

"I'll get the goblin dust, you get the medication," Willow decided, moving toward a shelf in the front.

"That costs twelve dollars a vile," Anya informed her, amending per Xander's glare, "but I will forgo the charge given the circumstances and my desire to aid my friends in this time of need."

He gave her a hug. "I'm proud of you for not asking your friend for money to save the lives of the Slayer and her Watcher like a selfish, money grubbing ex-demon."

"It was very hard."

"I know."

-.-.-

"Buffy, I—" Giles began, feeling her dangerously close to his flesh.

"Can you hold that thought for just a sec?"

"I believe so…" he trailed off, ghosting a hand up and down her arm.

Softly, timid and brief, her lips collided with his upper one. She let herself be swept away in the sensation, lost in the moment. He kissed her back, following her lead. After a brief time, they separated, but only just. She held her face to his, nuzzling noses. Their breath floated together and, suddenly, another kiss came on. The second time wasn't nearly as hesitant. Her fingers lined his jaw, his held the back of her head beneath her hair, and their mouths couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. She remembered whom she was smooching and, for a moment, paused to pull back. Her eyes searched his, inquiringly urgent.

"I'm sorry. That was completely inappropriate. I shouldn't have—" he started in a panic, seeing the odd expression on her features.

"It's not that. I'm waiting to see if we turn into some kind of amphibian or lose our souls and turn into… something… you know… soulless…" she answered.

He relaxed right away, jesting, "Perhaps a soulless salamander or a callous caecilian?"

"A callous Italian?" she blurted out, causing them both to laugh again. "Not exactly the smartest remark I've ever made…"

"A caecilian is an amphibian that looks quite like a worm, actually."

"Right. I_ totally_ knew that."

He smiled. "What on earth could make you think something would happen to us if we…" he stopped, drawling, "…were to kiss?"

"I don't know! I have these images in my head of every time something bad happens when Buffy kisses a guy. You're not just a guy. You're Giles. You're _Giles_, my Watcher, Giles. And I'm Buffy, your Slayer, Buffy."

"I think I know who we are," he replied gently. She started wringing her hands, moving to pace, and had to lie back down when the world spun like a revolving door.

"I mean, are there laws or curses or spells against this sort of thing?" she queried.

"What sort of thing?"

"Us, making with the smoochies and cozies…"

"Oh, right. That sort of thing. I um, I'm not sure. I'm not sure if this ever, I couldn't rule it out, given the situation, but would the Council, surely they don't have control over…"

"You're doing the barely audible smart guy ranting thing. Slayer speak?"

"The Council isn't a fan of Watchers becoming attached to their Slayers, but I seriously doubt there are mystical consequences in place."

She sighed. "It's just, I…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"It's something."

"No."

"Yes."

"No…"

"Buffy…"

"Giles."

"What is it?"

"I thought it was the fever making me think these crazy things. And then here we were and you were so… and I was so… and then we were both so… Now, everything is blurry! Is it the fever or a spell or _something_ else, or is it real? Is this really happening? What do you think about me thinking about this and you thinking about it because we're both thinking about being a both?"

"Honestly, I don't know what to think…"

She sat up, suddenly alarmed. "That isn't bad, right? That's just being unsure and not so much grossed out?" He couldn't answer. She kept talking. "I would totally understand the freaking, I'm freaking, but I don't want the freaking to be in a bad way. You know what I mean?" He moved to speak and she continued, "I'm freaking because I'd never expect to feel like this for you, but it's only cos you're older than me. Not that you're the oldest I've ever dated. You're Giles, and I really like Giles, I just didn't know I liked Giles like this. It's freaking me out," he said _freaking_ with her, "and I don't know what to do! Please say something before I ramble myself out."

He looked at her, tacitly saying, _I've been trying._ She understood and quietly replied, "Sorry. Enough with the Buffy crazy talk."

"When I said I didn't know what to think, I meant just that. You mean a lot to me, Buffy. You always will. I could never think poorly of you. Your decisions, maybe, but not you…" she laughed and he smiled. "I came back because of you and I stayed because of you. I haven't really spent the time to analyze anything. I don't think we should. After all, it could only be the illness or a property in the venom or botched cure making us feel this way. We should focus on a recovery. The rest can come later."

"Right. Get better, then sort through the whole me kissing you thing. Or did you kiss me?"

"Does it matter?"

"_Does it matter_? Of course it does! Don't you know what that means? Who kisses who defines the kiss completely! If I kissed you first, that means I wanted to kiss you more than you wanted to kiss me and if you kissed me first then you wanted to kiss me more."

"We kissed each other. It was equal parts you and I."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

She looked down, grinning, "That's a good _oh_."

"Oh. Good."

"So…now what?"

"I was thinking about catching up on my Norse Demonology collection. They have a very interesting myth about a—"

"I meant the other thing… the kissing one."

"We will figure out what happened here later on, I assure you. We need to relax now."

"Okay. Yeah. That's a good idea," she nodded, stretching out beside him. "Tell me about the interesting myth."

He smiled as she inadvertently cuddled up to his arm, beginning the tale of a "very interesting myth." Somehow, it felt right being together, even the smoochies part. Ickies causing it or not, neither could complain about it all. It wasn't wigging her out that it felt like she belonged there. It was wigging her out that it could be unreal, just a side effect of magic gone bad. She didn't want that. She wanted Giles.

She did _not_ just think that… she _did_…

Uh-oh.


	9. Chapter 9

"What happened next?" Buffy asked nervously. "Did the whole town get invaded or did it all stop? Was it real or a trick? And did the little boy die? No, don't tell me. That would make me too sad…"

"No one knows what happened after. The place descended into chaos. Everyone attacked one another because the suggestion had been planted, even though not a single person was truly the evil believed to be there. The belief, however, was too strong and it's assumed they killed and destroyed everyone and everything. The beings did, in fact, exist and orchestrated the entire incident to observe how quickly they could deteriorate the human psyche."

"That's awful!"

"Knock, knock!" Xander called, sticking his head into the room. "I come bearing clothes, magazines, and some magic dust to make you feel better!"

"You mean you found another cure?" Giles asked excitedly.

"Well, not exactly…" he responded carefully.

"What do you mean 'not exactly'?" Buffy deadpanned.

"It's…uh…some…" he grasped for the explanation, but couldn't get a hold. He froze, thinking it over, finally deciding, "Willow!"

She came in like a nervous bunny, eyes closed as if she'd walk in on some sort of hanky-panky. "What is it, Xander?"

"Explain the magic dust to the sickies before they stake me."

"Well, they're a combination of ibuprofen and goblin dust. They're not a cure as much as a feel better pill until we make the permanent one. So I think that's a yay, don't you?"

"Yay," Buffy and Giles said in unenthusiastic unison.

Willow frowned and held up a bag. "But I got you chocolate."

"Ooh! Gimmie!" Buffy answered, reaching happily. Willow handed it over.

"Your mistakes have been subsequently forgotten," Giles nodded. "If I get some of those, of course."

She held the bag open for him. Willow caught the looks between them. Xander was too busy thinking about the conversation he walked in on.

"All that stuff about messing with human psyche and chaos was just a story, right? Something from some history book and never going to happen here anytime soon?" he hoped.

"Actually, it's from the _Twilight Zone_," Buffy answered. "I haven't seen that one."

"It's good. Very haunting," Giles nodded, going for another chocolate. Buffy snatched one before he could.

"There wasn't much else to do but tell stories," she shrugged.

"Well, now you have magazines and pajamas. That should liven up the party," Xander smiled, setting the things on the comforter.

"After you add the powder to something to drink, you should feel like new! The real cure will be ready in a few days. Until then, you can just rest and read and stuff. We'll call and stop by if you want."

"Okay, Will. We'll get right on that. Thanks for finding something to help. I'm still feeling shivery," Buffy replied.

Giles absentmindedly put a blanket around her. "I could use something to calm my headache as well," he agreed.

"Great. Well, we should go. The doses are all measured out for ya. Come on, Xander. We have somewhere to go…"

They quickly left.

"Did you see it?" she whispered to him on the way out.

"See what?"

"They had those googly eyes and guilty faces."

"So?"

"They totally kissed. I can't believe this!"

Giles and Buffy couldn't hear over the chocolates.

"This is some of the best chocolate I've ever had," he commented thickly.

"It's yummy times ten," she agreed.

"Perfect to go with our magic dust, wouldn't you say?"

"Definitely perfect."

"I'll go get some water to wash them down."

"I should go. You should rest."

"No, no. You stay and change, whatever you need to get comfortable."

"Okay. Don't be too long or I'll have to come check on you."

"I think I can handle the long journey to my kitchen. If I can't, I'll sound the alarm and you can ride in to rescue me from the soggy tea bags."

"Ha-ha."

He left and she pulled on the first mismatched outfit she could. She started to worry when the time seemed to drag, but then he returned with tea and water. They took their dust with some hesitation, and then reclined with their tea and candies. She was shocked when she found she felt better right away.

"Do we have any chocolates left?" he inquired some time later. She checked the bag.

"One. It's all yours."

He awkwardly tried to juggle his book and tea. She shook her head and simply fed it to him.

"Thank you," he smiled through the coco goodness. "If you find you're growing tired of me, I can move to the couch."

"No. I think the upstairs is a nice change of scenery for us, don't ya think?"

"I do, but if you're feeling up to being alone and want to be, I don't want to bother—"

"Not a bother. You should be close just in case one of us gets sick."

"You aren't feeling better?"

"Nope," she shrugged, curling neatly against him. "You?"

"…not much either…" he agreed, just as insincerely.

He resumed reading, gingerly sipping his tea. She made a habit of staying in contact with him at all times, usually by hugging an arm or in this case, a leg. Neither had noticed she did, not that they'd have minded. His ears detected a sigh, so he glanced down at her and placed the book aside. Feeling for a fever, for the seventh time in the last hour and a half, his fingers noticed she had cooled down. He didn't say it. Instead, he rearranged her hair so she'd breathe easier, running his hand down the back of her head.

"How are you, Buffy?"

"Never better. This whole Slayer sick leave thing is kinda great once you get past the feeling like death."

"I have to agree."

She met his gaze, "Talk."

"Talk?"

"I don't care what you say. My eyes hurt from too much reading, my brain hurts from too much thinking, and my body hurts too much from Mr. Fugly. I just want to lie here and do nothing, but it's creepy when it's quiet."

He smiled and told story after story with his big words and boring facts, but it was soothing and she wound up falling asleep across his lap. He stayed awake, reading various books he'd read a million times before.

Nightfall was interesting. They had a ton of excuses for why neither felt they should separate, so they simply didn't. There they were, she in her strangest pair of pajamas flipping through a magazine and he in his robe strumming his guitar.

"I've been waiting so long to be where I'm going in the sunshine of your love. I'm with you my love. The light's shining through on you. Yes, I'm with you my love. It's the morning and just we two. I'll stay with you darling now. I'll stay with you till my seas are dried up…" he sang, continuing on with the rest of the song. She clapped when it was over.

"Very nice. If I had a lighter, I'd have waved it around until the sprinklers went off."

"It was lighter worthy?" he smiled, settling back beside her.

"Uh-huh. Zippo approved. Keep playing. The live versions are much better than the record ones."

"Any requests?"

"Ooh, you take requests? This should be fun…"

"Buffy…"

"I'll behave. Maybe."

She started laughing and he joined in. They were like that until late into the night when they both fell asleep. When Willow called the next morning to see how the pills worked, Buffy said they didn't and Giles agreed. True, the real cure hadn't come, but all symptoms were gone. The quarantine went on without cause and neither could complain.

"Oh dear Lord," Giles said the following afternoon. He held the magazine out further, turning it from side to side, bringing it closer to his face again.

Buffy was across his lap and the bed, reading his bike magazine. She'd gotten cold and insisted she required more than a blanket. So, he quickly gave her one of his sweaters. It didn't match the yummy sushi pajama bottoms, but comfort was the name of the game.

"Hmm?" she answered distractedly. Maybe slaying would be more fun on a scooter…

"I've never seen an ice skater wear _that_ and still be able to pull such a move off," he responded. "I can't tell if it's real or just my eyesight."

She set the magazine on her chest, looking up at his chin through his glasses. "You want your glasses back?"

"If I could for just a moment," he nodded, taking them delicately from her. He double checked the picture in her ice skating magazine, carefully placing the frames back on her.

"Thanks. I always feel smarter in glasses and I feel doubly smart since they're yours."

He grinned. "I feel the very same about ice skating periodicals."

She giggled, finished with the bikes and more interested in his incorrectly buttoned shirt. Her fingers poked at one of them. "You're buttons are all wrong."

"They are?" he replied, not bothering to look. "I wonder if that had anything to do with not having my glasses."

"Hey, I offered to give 'em back and you said, '_No, that's quite all right. They've been known to give me a dreadful headache if I wear them for too long.' _Exact quote, not exactly the exact accent, but you can't say it didn't sound British. Just not your British. Maybe a cousin or something."

He smiled fondly. "It was a somewhat accurate impression."

"I'll take it," she said happily, frowning at the crooked shirt. "Can you fix the buttons? You're only one off, but it's really bugging me."

"I'll fix them in a moment. I'm almost finished with an article about the figure eight and its origins…"

"Fine. You read and I'll button."

He held the magazine in the air above her and she quickly corrected the problem area.

"There. All fixed," she nodded, moving to straighten his lopsided collar and wrinkled shoulders. Might as well while she's at it…

It didn't take long to smooth out the kinks, but she stayed there with her hands about his neck. His attention drifted from the magazine to her features. He gently tossed it behind her, loosely hanging his arms around her midsection.

"I thought you were reading that article," she murmured.

"Yes, well, I finished it. I thought you were fixing my shirt."

"I finished it."

"Right."

"Yeah."

They moved in, colliding at the mouths as lightly and sweetly as a sugarcoated feather. It carried on for awhile until Giles stopped, breathing, "Didn't we agree to focus on making a recovery?"

"Uh-huh."

"Only checking."

He kissed her again, she kissed back a bit harder, and then a crack got their attention. They looked toward the hall.

"Did that sound like a door being broken down?" she asked quietly.

"The new door…" he grumbled.

"We killed that thing, so what could be coming for us now?"

"I honestly don't know, but I'm sure we'll soon find out…"


	10. Chapter 10

After the noise, it didn't take long for the intruder to find them. They hadn't moved an inch, mostly because they were too comfy to do so. A woman appeared in the bedroom doorway. She wasn't just a woman, though; she was a witch. She had the cloak and everything cliché to complete the costume. Willow and Tara would cringe if they saw this nut job.

"Patrice?" Giles gaped.

…this nut job Giles knew…

"You know her?" Buffy asked in surprise.

"Rupert," Patrice said coolly.

"You _know_ her?" Buffy asked again.

"Yes, I know her. I didn't know she came over from England."

"You _know her_ and she's _British_?"

"I lost my accent so I could blend in here," she snapped.

"Well, the cape isn't exactly helping with the blending," Buffy retorted, eyeing the ensemble again.

"Buffy, please," Giles said gently. "What is it you want, Patrice?"

"What I always have, Rupert! Can't you see that? Don't you remember anything? I loved you and you left me to become a Watcher! A _Watcher_! I never gave up on you. Of course, I lost track of you for a time, but then you came back to England! I found you again! I followed you here and opened a magic shop as a cover, just like you. Then, I watched and waited. I was going to make my move, but I saw _her _and how much you _love __**her**_. I couldn't have that. So, I conjured an AO. They love their mystics. A Slayer is like a fine steak for them! It wasn't hard to get it to chase her. But you were there and she got you sick! She killed my pet and she's still alive! She's in the way of our love! And she's in your clothes…"

Buffy quickly took the glasses off and handed them back to Giles, angrily confronting, "This woman is your ex-girlfriend?"

He looked between the two of them, babbling for a moment, and came back with, "We weren't really dating. She's the cousin of a friend of a friend. I took her to a movie once, that's all it was."

"Rubbish!" she spat. "We had something special, Rupert! How could you say such things? How could you be with _her_?"

"How could you be with _her_?" Buffy demanded. "Her fashion sense is insultingly awful and she's obviously insane!"

"I am not! She's half your age and rude!"

"I am not rude! Take that back you psycho witch wannabe!"

"Stop it!" Giles shouted, quieting them both. "I will not have you two squabbling. I do not want another headache. Please, keep it down. Patrice, I appreciate all you've done for me. You're a lovely woman and we saw a lovely movie, however many years ago that was, but I'm afraid we can't have a relationship."

"Oh, I get it. You're trading me in for the younger model. She doesn't know you like I do. You're making a mistake."

Buffy folded her arms, standing up beside the bed and staring the lunatic down. "A mistake? I am not a mistake. How many years has it been since you even spoke to him? I've been right here for a long time and there's no way you know him better than me."

"Oh yeah? What did he really want to be instead of a Watcher?"

"Fighter pilot or grocer. What kind of doughnuts does he like?"

"Jelly. Name one band he likes."

"Cream. That all you got?"

"Oh please don't," Giles grumbled. "I don't want to listen to you both shouting and carrying on. Patrice, thank you for stopping by. Have a wonderful life elsewhere."

"No, Rupert. I'm going to be with you and this young thing is in my way!"

"What are you going to do about it?" Buffy smirked. "Ride over on your fake broomstick and make me eat a poisoned apple?"

Patrice started to mutter an incantation and Giles reached out, cradling Buffy in his arms just as a blue jet flew into the wall.

"Thanks," she nodded, standing again. "Here's the deal wicked witch of the crazy, I'll fight you, but it has to be a fair fight."

"You have Slayer strength. Where's the fairness in that?"

"Oh. Right. Sucks for you."

She pounced, tackling the witch to the floor. They rolled around in the same way two women do when fighting for a man. Giles stood, going to aid Buffy. Both women shouted at him, "STAY OUT OF THIS!"

He backed off, responding, "This is absolute madness…"

Patrice went flying, smacking into the wall with a _thud._ Buffy got up, fists at the ready. The other woman pulled herself upright, muttering a spell. Giles heard it and leapt in front of Buffy at the last moment, taking the blow for her. He tumbled onto the bed and both ran to his side.

"Look what you did!"

"That was meant for you!"

"Oh yeah. That's a great defense!"

"If he hadn't moved in front of—"

"He did! Fix whatever you've done!"

She tried to undo the bad juju. They waited for sometime. He hadn't moved.

"What did you do?" Buffy demanded.

"It's just a spell to paralyze my opponent…"

"You could have paralyzed _my _Watcher? I'm going to paralyze you the old-fashioned way if you can't fix him!"

"I'm trying!"

"_Try harder_."

She tried again. When he started to come around, he said softly, "Buffy? Are you all right?"

Buffy glanced at Patrice pointedly. "I'm fine. Can you move?"

He nodded, moving every limb as proof. "What happened?"

"Double, double, toil and trouble here zapped you. I'll deal with it."

"Now, don't make anymore of a fuss than—" he began, only to hear the unmistakable sound of a punch. "Not again…"

He sat against the headboard, watching the two of them go at it. There was no contest. Buffy was kicking her ass and it wasn't until she had Patrice in a headlock he decided to put an end to the fight.

"Enough!" he said with his resolved sternness. They looked up at him, Patrice trying to pry Buffy's arm from her neck and Buffy trying to crack something. "Buffy, let her go."

"But—"

"_Buffy, let her go_."

She did. Patrice opened her mouth to say something smart.

"Patrice," he snapped, stopping her. "You've almost killed the Slayer and myself. You've made us terribly sick, wrecked my new flat, almost had us killed yet again, and now you've disturbed our afternoon. I have never loved you, nor liked you, and I never will. I'm sorry, but that's the way of it. Please go back to England and take your insane idea of love with you."

"You want her over me?" she stuttered in disbelief, her real accent coming out.

"Who's in his sweater?" Buffy returned triumphantly.

"I shan't allow this! You were supposed to be sick! This was supposed to be easy!"

"Yeah, well, they all think I'm easy…" she stopped, adding, "…to kill…"

"The only way you're going to get rid of me is if you do it by force, because I'm not about to—"

Buffy punched her lights out. "That can be arranged."

"Thank you. If she said anything else, her voice would certainly have driven me to the edge of psychosis…"

She went to his side, gently rubbing his shoulder. "You okay? That magic didn't look like the kind Mickey Mouse does in the Disney movies…"

"I'm fine. I'm terribly sorry she caused all this trouble."

"Why didn't you mention her before?"

"There was nothing to mention. It was literally one date."

"Then how did you know her right away? I mean, people look different when they get older so you've had to have seen her recently or kept in touch or have really, really remembered her. Have you been seeing her? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't seeing her! It's been years since I've laid eyes upon her! The only way I remembered her is simply because that was the worst date of my life. She insisted on speaking in that dreadful voice the entire film and she called me Rupert every other word. I was going through my Ripper phase at the time…"

"Rupert is a no-no. Duly noted."

"Well, _now_ I don't mind it. At the time, I did."

"So I can call you Rupert?"

"…no…"

"Oh good. Giles is much, much better."

Patrice made a noise.

"I almost forgot about her. What do we do? Garbage day is tomorrow. Do you think they'd notice a body-shaped Glad bag?"

"She won't be happy went she's awake. We should restrain her. I think I can get in touch with my old friend in England. He can take her home. Until then, perhaps an institution is in order…"

"Perfect. Where's the rope?"

"…maybe I should be the one to tie her up?"

"Are you saying you don't think I can do it? That I might possibly tie her up a little too tight…so tight her cape rips and she turns periwinkle?"

"I'll tie her up, then."

"Good idea."

He got up, hesitating. "Buffy, I just wanted to say…"

"To say…?"

"You look lovely in my sweater."

She grinned. "Go. Make with the tying and restraining before nutso wakes up for another round."

He nodded and left to find some rope. She slowly ambled to Patrice, towering above her with a victorious smile.

"This is my country, my town, and _my_ Watcher. Got it?"

She didn't answer, but she took the punch-induced silence as a yes…


	11. Chapter 11

"I…I can't believe it!" Willow exclaimed. "She seemed so…friendly and not cuckoo…"

"They always do," Buffy shrugged.

Xander came running in from the bathroom where the cuckoo was asleep in the shower. "I _so _told you! I knew she was a big bad!"

"This from the man who insists Artie, the town baker, is really half fly," Giles grunted, nursing the return of his headache.

"I'm telling you, his eyes move funny and he buzzes when he walks," he defended.

"But he did know about her," Willow offered. "I just thought she was distracted. She'd been so helpful before…"

"Bad guys are good at pretending to be good guys. I guess her plan was to kill me off with her pet…Alexminttoss oxyohnostril…"

"Alimentous Oxonous," Willow provided.

"Yeah. That. When it didn't, she decided to try to kill me anyway. She figured I'd be Buffy the sickly Slayer, but you guys gave us that feel good thing and I was up to the not-challenge of fighting her."

"What did she want you dead for anyway?" Xander asked.

Giles looked at her and she looked at him, quickly lying, "Oh. Just the usual anti-Slayer fan club with their annual effort to slay me."

"I'm sorry she put your through that! At least the feathers will be in tomorrow and we can make the cure," Willow said, always looking on the bright side.

"I thought it'd be awhile longer," Giles responded.

"Anya pulled some strings," Xander grinned proudly. "I mean that literally. Some demon she knew knows some guy with a pet raven, so she called in a favor and yanked on his abnormally long eyebrows until he agreed."

"Oh. That's…sweet of her," Buffy nodded, sending a sad expression towards her Watcher.

"Sure was. Say, I'm going home after this. Do you want me to deliver the crazy one to the hospital on my way?"

"Yes. That would be extremely helpful. Hubert will be around to get her by the end of the week. Tell them he'll be the one checking her out," Giles answered.

"Hubert?" Buffy snorted.

"There's a reason we went by Ripper and Hellraiser, you know," he sighed nostalgically.

"Hellraiser?" she laughed again.

"That was his bloody idea, not mine. Those were different times…"

Xander went to the door. "I'll be going, then. Anya's waiting up for me. Will, can you help me with the insane lady or should I deal on my own?"

"I'll help," she promised, walking alongside him. "See you tomorrow with the cure!"

They waved and waited to speak until the Scoobies had gone with Patrice.

"So, the cure is going to be here tomorrow…" Buffy began.

"It appears so."

"No more quarantine."

"No."

"Maybe that whole sorting out thing should happen now."

"You're right. It should."

…

"I just feel like—" Buffy said at the same time Giles began,

"I don't know what—"

"—all of the sudden—"

"—is the best course of action—"

"—the stuff I thought was Watcher's pet syndrome—"

"—however, I do think we should be cautious—"

"—is really not. It's really me—"

"—since our lives would change a great deal—"

"—and really you really being something else—"

"—so perhaps we should wait a few days—"

"—that I never thought could be real—"

"—before seeing each other to make sure—"

"—but now I really think it isn't unreal but is actually real—"

"—that our feelings are true and we wish to, maybe—"

"—and we're really going to make this something realistic."

"—be together, but only after a pause."

…

"What?" they said in unison.

"Someone has to say something first and the other has to play the quiet game," she announced.

"All right. You go first."

"No, you go."

"Are you sure? It would be rude of me to go first when—"

"Just go or we'll be stuck here until Carrot Top wins an Oscar."

"Oh dear. Well, in that case, I said that I'm not sure what the best course of action happens to be, but I do think we should be cautious. There's still a chance our behavior is simply from the supernatural element in this situation. I'm not necessarily saying I believe that. However, I want to be sure it's not before we proceed. This is nothing to be taken lightly. A few days apart after the cure should quell any doubts. From there, we may decide things further."

She digested the typically long Giles logic, feeling a bit disappointed. He was always the coolheaded one. She was always the impetuous, stake-first-ask-later one.

"Okay," she agreed. "That's a good plan. A very…safe plan."

"Do you have anything to add?"

A million thoughts came to her, but she shook her head no. He was pretty set on his decision, and it sounded better than what she came up with, so that was that.

"All right. We'll enjoy our last day of lying about and then it's back to work," he sighed. "I was actually becoming fond of being bedridden."

"Except the achy part," she replied, absentmindedly curling into his side. He draped an arm around her and she continued, "and the constantly being attacked part."

"True."

"Goodnight, Giles."

"Goodnight, Buffy."

He fell asleep rather quickly. She stayed up, listening to him, wondering if her feelings would go away with raven feather goop. Each time she thought it, she hugged him a bit tighter. It was early morning when she fell asleep and almost noon when Xander and Willow woke them.

"Para aceta mol mino ilide phen ifebrin, banesin crocin dapa dolo tam tap en anol."

The liquid flashed yellow and Buffy eyed it carefully. Giles did the same thing, asking gently, "Are we sure about the feathers?"

"Anya watched them be plucked from the raven herself," Xander assured them.

"A real Lenore squawking raven," Willow nodded.

"What?" Xander and Buffy said.

"Poe reference again," Giles mumbled.

"Right. Knew that," Xander weakly responded with a laugh.

"That must have been one of the English classes I skipped while saving the world. Maybe," Buffy commented.

"Oh yeah. Use the Slayer excuse," he shot back.

"Can we not fight? I just…there's a cure, remember? Yay?" Willow interrupted. "We're getting back on their good side and I'd rather set the bad side aside, you know?"

"It's okay, Will. You're not on my staking list. Unless this doesn't work," Buffy warned.

They drank their cure, happily finding it was, in fact, a cure. Both Willow and Xander breathed a sigh of relief. Xander ran a hand around his neck, the one his head would stay safely fashioned to until he screwed up…again.

"So, we're officially on the side of good, right?" he inquired. "I can not sleep with my eyes open worrying you'll come at me with an axe?"

"Yes. Now, everything can go back to as it was. Buffy can go home to Dawn and leave my disheveled flat and tea behind. Training can wait a few days until we're strong again," he tacitly responded, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. Their little plan would go into effect and everything would be as it was. No cozies, smoochies, cuddlies, or anything remotely –ies worthy with Giles. Totally Slayer/Watcher again. Nothing more.

"No."

"No what, Buff?" Xander swallowed nervously.

She looked Giles right in his pretty eyes, stating again, "No."

Everyone was completely baffled, even the G-man.

No to the plan. No to everything going back to the way it was. No to no cozies, smoochies, cuddlies, or anything remotely –ies worthy. No to the totally Slayer/Watcher relationship. No to nothing more. Yes to Giles. _Her_ Giles. Yes, yeah, yup, yep, yeppers, and ya.

"Buffy? Are you feeling okay? Did it not work right?" Willow asked carefully.

"Yeah, it did. That's not what I meant," she answered, focusing on Giles. Before she could really think it through, the words spilled out. "During this little quarantine, we've had high fevers that almost killed us, a fight with Mr. Fugly that almost killed us, and a disturbing face off with some crazed fan girl that—guess what—was supposed to have killed us. That's a lot of almost killed for you and me. The point is, I've been in here with you and I don't know how long I'm gonna be with you before death number three—or one for you—separates us. I keep trying to write this off as a fever thing or say, '_The magic made me do it_' and that's not it. I look back and now, more than ever, I know how much I can't lose you. You're Giles, _my_ Giles, whether you're in tweed, silly costumes, or demon form. I don't need a few days for the cure to kick in to tell me what I've already known."

Xander and Willow looked between them in amazement, awe stricken into silence. They waited, along with Buffy, for Giles to reply.

"What is it you've known?" he said softly.

"Do I really have to spell it out for you? You're the smart one. I'm just the Slayer in need of watching."

"I won't believe it unless I hear you say it."

"I don't want things to go back to the way they were. I want to be with you."

"I want to be with you too, Buffy."

"Really?"

"Really, I do and forget about being cautious."

Without thinking, they kissed in front of the Scoobies. Xander covered his mouth, hoping it would keep him from vomiting and Willow quietly went, _"Awww."_

As soon as they pulled apart, Xander said, "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Shut up, Xander!" Willow snapped. "I was worried you two were together behind our backs, but I guess this is the first of the togetherness, huh?"

"Pretty much," Buffy nodded, pulling his arm around her shoulders. "And unless you want to be on my list again, Xand, I'd stop with the grossed out face. 'Kay?"

"Got it," he choked. "Good luck telling the others."

"I forgot about them," Buffy frowned.

"They won't cause a fuss," Giles shrugged confidently. "Surely, they'll see we're both adults, old friends, and incredibly close. If they don't, we'll threaten them with violence and bribe them with cookies."

"Right. What's the worst that could happen—off-color jokes from Anya for a few weeks and bratty laughter from my sister? That isn't too bad."

"Dawnster might feel it necessary to point out the G-man's…teenage escapade…with your mom…" Xander warned. "She sort of found out from Anya when we ran out of things to do babysitting awhile back…maybe."

"Okay, still not too bad. At least we're alive, together, and freed from quarantine!" Buffy exclaimed happily. "I'm finally free of the ickies. Well, _we're_ finally free of the ickies."

"We are indeed," Giles agreed, placing a kiss to her forehead. "If I had to deal with a headache for another day, I'd have lost my mind."

"Same for me. If I had to see another box of tissues, someone or something was getting slayed."

"In that case, I'm glad the cure worked!" Willow smiled, "I was worried, I'll admit, albeit only a teensy bit. And now…now…now…" she started huffing, ending with a mighty sneeze. She held her nose in horror, squeaking, "There's a cold going around. It's not too bad or anything. I doubt you'd get it."

Buffy and Giles looked at each other, sneezing in unison. They looked angrily at the Wiccan. She gathered her things quickly, muttering, "Uh-oh…"

_The end_

_Thank you for all of the reviews, favorites, and story alerts! I love you guys. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it!_


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